Tag: loss

As I sit here to write about our third anniversary, I have to be honest and say that it’s been a rough couple of days. I would love to wish my husband a happy 3 years of marriage, and let that be it. But, the truth is, the end of his Father’s Day, and the beginning of our anniversary week have been high-jacked. Trigger warning: this post is long and a bit sad. I’ll spare you the graphic details, but if you’re not in the place where you can read about pregnancy loss, then I urge you to skip it and return to it another day. I also curse – sorry, not sorry.

Last week, I had a positive pregnancy test. It wasn’t just the regular ole’ “two pink lines” one is bright and the other is hard-to-tell type of thing… it was a digital pregnancy test that said “YES+” and I was so excited. Our family plan has always been to wait until Harvey turned two, and then talk about trying again, and to aim for the whole three-years-a-part timing thing. Once May rolled around, we figured we would hop on board and get the ball rolling. And then, just like last time, BAM! First time’s a charm… pregnant!! Woohoo!! February due date! Right before Harvey’s 3rd birthday. Time to get the list started: call the doctor, tell immediate family, start telling Harvey about the “baby in mama’s belly” – you know, the usual.

For half a week, we did all of those things. I made a doctor’s appointment for my 8 week ultrasound, we told Nick’s parents, and read Harvey the Berenstain Bears’ “New Baby” book.

**Quick break for a funny story here (When we pointed to my belly and told Harvey there was a baby in there, he put his face close to my stomach and pointed to a mole above my belly button and said “aww it’s a baby!!!” Nick and I laughed hysterically and then Harv did too. As sad as I have been for the past few days, this is a memory I will cherish and keep).**

A few days into this new exciting adventure, I started to feel anxious because I was experiencing some light spotting. It wasn’t bright red, so I figured after everything I had seen on the internet that it was totally normal and I tried to put it out of my mind.

Sunday started off like our normal weekend days do. We woke up, had a blast at the NC Museum of Art, stopped by the Raleigh Flea Market and had lunch… and then we came home. After getting Harvey down for a nap, I went to the bathroom and there it was… exactly what you don’t want to see when you think you’re pregnant. Shit. Fuck. Damnit. I’m getting my period. Sadness… fear… uncertainty… frustration… anger.

Let’s pause for a minute here, Sarah. What the hell is wrong with you?! SO WHAT! You’re getting your period, big deal. Don’t act like this is that bad… you have friends who’ve lost pregnancies, babies, children, and close loved ones. It’s not that bad. There are families who have been torn apart down at the border. Parents separated from their children for extended periods of time… that is actually horrible. What you’re dealing with…? It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad…. Tears. Lots and lots of tears…. YES IT IS THAT BAD!!! I WANT TO BE PREGNANT!!! This isn’t fair. Ugh.

I immediately start going through the list of all the things I could have possibly done wrong. I went running the day I found out I was pregnant. And then again on Saturday. And then I spread mulch in our yard for hours. I overdid it. I drank a cup of coffee every morning I was pregnant. Should I have stopped that? I had headaches last time I stopped drinking coffee. Everybody says all of these things are fine when you’re pregnant but what if they aren’t… what if I did this?

Then, I start trying to minimize it. I tell myself I have no reason to be this upset. It’s not like I was even actually pregnant. There was no heartbeat. Some people call this a “chemical pregnancy” and some people call it an “early miscarriage.” I don’t care what you want to call it. It feels like a loss and I feel sad and I can’t help that. I won’t always feel this sad, and hopefully this is the only hiccup in the road. But it might not be. We might be starting down a long and scary road in order to grow our family to the size we’ve always hoped for. There is no way to know for sure.

After that, I start to get jealous. Envious. Of all the families out there who have their beautiful second children. There, I said it. It’s not my fault, it isn’t their fault. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy for them… but I’m allowed to be jealous. Just for a little while, ok?

And then… worst of all, Ed shows up in the corner. He says, “Sarah, let’s get through this together. Crawl into my arms, I’ll be there for you. I’m always here for you.” You see, Ed and I used to be a pretty dynamic duo. We do tragedy well together. But… that was a long time ago, and I now belong to a pretty terrific trio known as “The Cainades” and those are the people I do life with. Those are the people I will always do life with. Although I am sad, although it feels like I could easily rejoin him, I am able to reply, “Kindly, Ed, go fuck yourself!” And for a moment, I am proud of how far I’ve come. Good thing I go to therapy on Thursday!

Now, for the first time, I have a very tiny, small glimpse into what this shame feels like. Honestly, I’m not even sure if that’s the right word. I understand why people keep pregnancy a secret. You don’t want to get your hopes up. Not only that… you don’t want to get other peoples’ hopes up. I don’t want to let anybody down. I don’t want to let my husband down, I don’t want to let myself down. I don’t want my family and friends to get excited over nothing. We are going to the beach at the end of the week, and I wanted to tell them about our news. Now, I have nothing to share, and I’m heartbroken over that fact.

When I called the doctor to cancel my appointment, I was half hoping that the person on the other end of the line would give me some sort of “hope.” I was hoping she would tell me to come in, that they would double-check, and that everything was actually just a bad dream. She was super sweet, and told me that if I needed anything at all to call them back, including resources for my current situation. Another quick side note here: I am switching practices after Harvey’s scary birth situation – although I absolutely LOVE the Women’s Birth and Wellness Center and recommend them to anybody who will listen, I have switched to the Durham Women’s Clinic where midwives (and OB’s) deliver in a hospital. I had an appointment there earlier this spring and loved it… but it occurs to me when I hang up the phone, that I might not have any actual, real prenatal visits with them. I hope this isn’t the case.

I am going to be ok. I have a great support network and an even better partner to walk this journey with me. All of our journeys look a little different. The unknown is hard, but ultimately, I know everything will be fine – one way or the other.

I’ve been hugging my child a little harder this week. They are miracles. I’ve always known that, but sometimes the universe has a particular way of reminding you. To my sweet Nick, I am so glad that we decided to get married 3 years ago. I’m sorry that we had to experience this as a family, but I am so grateful that we experienced it together. You are my rock and my love. I am looking forward to celebrating our anniversary with you, and to have a great week at the beach and a fabulous rest of the summer. I love you.

To everybody else, I hope you are well. In this world, we are all walking our own path. Nobody else can walk your path for you. But, if you want – if you let them – there are people who are willing to walk it with you for a little while if you need them to. I am here as one of those people. I might not know what to say to you. I might not know what it is you need. But I will be here. We can sit in silence, or we can chat for as long as you need. Don’t tell me that “everything will work out the way it is supposed to” because I don’t even know what that is “supposed” to be. Just be there, show up, and I will do the same. Take care of yourselves and love each other fiercely. Peace be with you. ❤

So… Harvey is about to turn 2 and I am still in denial. I know I’ve said this before, but I mean it every time: “I think this is my favorite stage so far!” Seriously though, I loved watching my newborn begin to smile and coo, and then I loved watching my infant turn into a crawling baby. It was so fun watching my cruiser turn into a toddler, and now… it is the MOST FUN ever watching my toddler turn into a little kid!! I’ve been spending a lot of time reminiscing on the baby phase (mostly thanks to timehop on facebook memories) but also because it is the time of year where our lives are about to get very busy and hectic as soccer season starts tomorrow. I’m trying to soak it in, and put memories down on paper.

What’s new with Harv? Well… he’s officially in the so-called “terrible twos” stage. I don’t say that to insinuate that he’s bad, he’s actually quite wonderful (most of the time). I just mostly mean that he says “no” and “I didn’t do that” and tries to test/push the boundaries with us. I’ll admit, I’ve got to step up my mom game when it comes to this because I can’t help but laugh at him. Nick is the “good” parent when trying to actually teach Harvey what he can and can’t do (like jump on the couch or throw his trucks down the stairs). He has such patience and can keep a straight face. I am the one guilty of “encouraging” his hilarious antics (even when they aren’t that hilarious) and I think it is mostly because I am in complete and total awe of everything he can say and do and understand. Like, when Harvey is being disciplined by Nick, he does this funny thing where Nick will ask him, “do you understand me?” and Harvey will go “ma!” it is his little way of showing embarrassment I think? He absolutely understands, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s in trouble. Eventually, Nick can get him to say “yes daddy” and I am usually standing by trying my hardest not to giggle.

(like father like son)

His language has really taken off these days. He’s always been a good communicator, but lately he’s becoming a conversationalist. He is starting to produce a lot of original thoughts and comments on things, and some of my favorites are when he wakes up in the morning and tells me about his “dreams.” I go in and get him out of his crib in the AM and bring him into our bed so we can snuggle and chat. It is usually just toddler-speak/babble, but sometimes he wakes up and wants to talk about cars. Cars and trucks are his true passion right now. It is hard to find him around the house (or anywhere really) without hotwheels in his little hands or a tonka truck at his feet.

(early morning truck time)

We’ve had a fun winter with him, that’s for sure. The snow days we got were a real treat, and we got to spend some good quality time together as a family, even if Harv didn’t love the snow a whole lot. We’ve had lots of trips to the museum and to sky zone on Saturdays for toddler time (I highly recommend this to my Durham peeps, along with a museum of life and science membership). Another thing I love noting about nug right now is that he has friends. Like, actual friends (not just other kids in the room) who he plays with, talks to, and loves seeing. When Theo and Luke come over, he calls them by name and interacts with them (even if it is just to snatch toys away)! Elliott from daycare is his official BFF – I have to peel them a part at the end of the day when I pick him up. When we leave Ms. Rochelle’s at the end of the day, he usually lists off his friends one by one (over and over again) the whole ride home while he’s telling me about his day. My favorite pronunciation is of Annabelle’s name – Harvey still maintains that you say it, “E-Belle.” ❤

(harv and theo at the museum)

Update on my life: this spring is going to be crazy!! Soccer season is always something I look forward to, and I am going to attempt to finish my national board certification on top of that! I’m running a half marathon and a 10-miler in April – so keep your fingers crossed that goes well! I also wanted to add something here for you all. Last night, I posted an Instagram with an update on my progress towards being a happy and healthy and “whole” person. I’ve gotten SO. MUCH. POSITIVE. Feedback from that and I just want to thank my community and support system for those words and affirmations. In my post, I reference this term that my therapist and I came up with called my “imaginary belly” and I wanted to elaborate a little to that. This term is not one I used in a literal or physical sense. It is a metaphor for my “baggage” and all that comes with breaking the “stigma” of having an eating disorder and being open/honest about it. It’s a reference to the idea that I carry the “weight” of this struggle and the way I used to try and hide it and/or fight it silently. Ever since I’ve made the decision to discuss this struggle and my journey, that “load” that I carry has only gotten lighter… and I continue to feel grateful for my blessings and for my people. 🙂

Life is short. I lost a coworker this weekend. He was a good man, a good teacher, a good coach, and a good father. It was sudden, and unexpected, and it has affected a lot of us here at school in many different ways. I can’t stop thinking about his family, and feeling lucky that I have the chance to keep waking up every day and loving mine. Let people in. Share yourself with them, and let them share themselves with you. We only get so many trips around the sun, and I intend to fill mine with as much laughter and joy as possible.

Well… that about sums it up! I tried to find some recent photos of our winter activities, and will update you all again after Harv’s birthday party. He is having an Easter egg hunt-themed birthday and we can’t wait to watch the kiddies try and find the eggs (or more likely just wander around the yard). Coming up this spring: potty training a little boy, first edition. Details to be released upon completion… aka pray for us, y’all! Haha!

It has almost been one year since the day you were born, and I have spent time over the past twelve months searching for the words with which to share my feelings and love for you. This entry is just one small attempt to make that happen, and I hope your parents will welcome my thoughts.

Two weeks before you were born, I found out that I was pregnant. Having known your mama in high school and college, and knowing that she was pregnant with you, I took a special interest in your story and her journey. I loved that you were a surprise to the outside world. I loved that your mother shared pictures of her growing belly so fearlessly. I loved that you were going to be born at any minute, and I was one of the people checking social media to make sure I didn’t miss your arrival. All of these things were helping me with my transition into motherhood, as my own nugget was still very tiny, new, and a secret to the rest of the world.

And then, I woke up on that day last September, and read your mama’s post about your birth with a smile on my face. You were a girl, your name was Emma Lynne Maclaga, and on the day you were born, you had also died. My smile turned into tears, and I couldn’t help but sob. My reaction and feelings will never come anywhere near what your parents must have felt, and still feel to this day. However, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “how could this happen?” I was devastated, and angry. How did God allow such a sweet innocent life to slip away? It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t wrap my head or my heart around your passing, and I felt as if I didn’t deserve to have my baby still growing inside my womb while your mother only held you in her arms for a short while.

After asking all of those questions, it slowly became clear to me that God had a plan for you, and for your parents. Your mother, with such courage and honesty, began writing about you. She shared, what I can only imagine to be a fraction of her deepest feelings and heartbreak. She wrote about you and your beauty. It is through her words that I found a connection with you, and it is through her words that you’ve had such a profound impact on my life. With more grace and strength than I could have ever managed, your mother gave your life a purpose, and began the process of healing herself and other women who’ve also lost their babies.

The first time I saw your picture, I was blown away. You are gorgeous. Your soft, dark hair and perfect button nose made me wonder what my little one was going to look like. The day my sweet baby was born, I thought of you. When he first opened his eyes and looked at me, I began to cry, and I felt your presence with me. He was with me, and you were in heaven.

Five weeks later, I went to see your mama tell your story. Oh sweet Emma, she brought you to life with her voice. I have never been so moved. My heart felt as if it would burst right out of my chest. The room full of people could feel you with her, there is absolutely no mistake about that.

I believe that someday, you and your parents will meet again. Perhaps, you will have younger siblings, and I hope that you know you will always be their big sister. My wish for you is that you continue to watch over your family here on earth, as they will long for you the rest of their days. My wish is that your story continues to touch and heal lives. My wish is that your mother and father continue to find hope and strength, and that they feel you with them as they do.